


Doulos

by ddpoweredbycoffee



Series: A Crack in the Mirror Series [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Back at it again with the sexy times, Doppelganger Sex, Honeymoon fantasies, M/M, New World, Porn With Plot, pleasure slaves, plot too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddpoweredbycoffee/pseuds/ddpoweredbycoffee
Summary: Captain Kirk and the Spocks must make contact with a new world before it’s too late. While there, however, they enjoy themselves a little...it is their honeymoon after all. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I apologize for the delay in this posting, but hopefully it’s worth the wait!
> 
> As always, please leave kudos or comments! I love to see what y’all think! :)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Captain’s Log Stardate 4105.3  
The Federation has recently discovered a massive deposit of dilithium crystal on an M class planet in the Beta Quadrant known as Serilia. It also happens to be the only M class planet in the sector. Unfortunately, its location is in close proximity to the border of the Klingon Empire, and the Federation is determined to make contact before they do._

_The Enterprise is tasked with establishing diplomatic relations the inhabitants’ leaders, and I must admit that I feel somewhat out of my depth. Normally this sort of thing is reserved for diplomats and ambassadors, but the urgency of the situation calls for speed over experience. Very little is known about the culture on Serilia other than the inhabitants are composed of two races, the Karinians and the Aracelles, and they, much like the inhabitants of Argelius II, place peace and self-indulgence above all else. The Karinians make up the ruling party and keep the Aracelles as servants, though history gives it another name._

_Despite my concerns, the Federation insists that it is vital we develop a relationship with the leaders in order to secure the deposit of dilithium crystal as well as its strategic location along the border. I have also been refreshed on the details of the Prime Directive. I will carry out my duty as a Starfleet officer and starship captain to the best of my ability, but as a human being, I have my reservations. Regardless of that fact, we will soon reach the planet’s orbit and the landing party still needs to be assembled. I have a mission to accomplish._

Kirk presses the button to announce his presence at the door.

“Come,” a deep voice calls in response.

The captain steps through the doors of the counselor’s office as they swish open. Thick locks of dark hair cascade over the bent head as the Vulcan at the desk scribbles notes furiously into his PADD.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Csr. Spock mutters, completely absorbed in his current task.

“Oh, no, please, take your time,” Kirk replies with a smirk.

The counselor immediately looks up.

“Jim,” he practically purrs as a smile teases at his mouth.

The captain walks around the desk as he leans back in his chair and gently lifts his chin for a kiss. His lips part slightly to the prodding if his tongue, and he glides the very tip along the their curve. The fresh, spicy scent of his skin fill his senses as he breathes him in, delighting in the sweetness of his mouth from a very recent lollipop. When he finally manages to pull himself away, Csr. Spock’s dark eyes shimmer up at him. Kirk notes the light brush of color along his cheeks and the remaining soft pucker of his lips. He tucks the loose hair behind the pointed shell of his ear and the Vulcan nuzzles into his palm. He smiles down at him as a tender warmth wells up in his chest. He then sits back on the corner of the desk, glancing down at the PADD.

“Are theses the Sarackian reports?” he asks casually.

The counselor clears his throat and straightens his uniform while Kirk struggles to hold back a pleased smirk. He nods.

“Yes, I was hoping to have them completed before we reach Serilia.”

“Ah, Yes, Serilia- that is actually the reason I came to see you-“

Csr. Sock arches a groomed eyebrow.

“And yet I sit here foolishly thinking that you simply missed me on the bridge,” he says, feigned hurt in his voice.

Kirk leans in closer, stealing a quick glimpse at his mouth. Their recent kiss still tingles on his lips.

“Believe me, Counselor, if I came to see you every time I missed you, you would never be rid of me.”

Their eyes lock for a brief moment, soaking in the tenderness and love passing between them and relishing the proximity of one another, before Kirk reminds himself of the purpose of his visit.

“I would like you to join the landing party with Spock and I once we reach orbit,” he explains.

The counselor’s eyebrows stitch together, creating a small wrinkle between them.

“Me, Jim?”

“Absolutely,” Kirk answers simply. “You may not officially have the title of diplomat or ambassador, but you are the best damn negotiator I have ever encountered.”

Csr. Spock glances down, his cheeks flushing darker with the praise. Kirk gently tilts his chin back up to him.

“I could never imagine embarking on a mission such as this without you,” he tells him quietly.

The bright glint in the Vulcan’s eyes betrays his hidden smile.

“As you wish.”

Kirk leans in for another quick kiss. He doesn’t think he could ever tire of doing so. His mood falters, however, as an unwelcome yet important thought pops into his head.

“Spock, I need you to know something before we go down there,” he starts hesitantly, his nerves building at the concern bleeding into his mind through their bond.

The Vulcan waits silently for him to continue.

“The Kirinians, they- well, they...” Kirk pauses as he debates how he wants to voice this. “The Kirinians keep...slaves.”

“I know,” comes Csr. Spock’s steady reply.

Kirk takes his hand in both his own.

“As much as I would like for you to accompany me on this mission, Spock, I won’t put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable.”

The counselor gives him a reassuring smile.

“I know, _ashel-veh_ , but there is no need for concern,” he assures. “In fact, I am quite interested to interact with them.”

Csr. Spock then spreads his fingers out where it rests on his thigh, his demeanor taking on a more sensuous nature.

“I also hear that Serilia is quite a paradise,” he murmurs. “Its hedonism rivaling that of Argelius II and Risa.”

An intense sensation pours into Kirk’s consciousness much hotter than the warm tenderness felt before.

“Affirmative.”

The Vulcan gives him a playful smirk. The captain swallows.

“You, Spock, and I have been married, oh, what, about a month now?”

“Yes.”

“And have there been any opportunities for shore leave on an actual planet since then?”

Kirk’s mouth twitches with a grin as he begins to understand the aim of his questions.

“No.”

Csr. Spock maneuvers his chair to situate himself between his parted knees. He pulls until he’s flush against him and his groin presses against his chest. His hands drag slowly along the outline of his waist.

“Then it would seem we are still owed a honeymoon.”

The counselor leans forward as he lifts Kirk’s uniform just enough to expose a sliver of skin. His mouth locks on to it, open-mouthed and wet, making the captain gasp. He then nuzzles into his rapidly growing bulge before laying his head to the side on his thigh. Kirk weaves his fingers through his thick hair, pushing it back away from his face.

“I would like that very much, my love,” Kirk breathes, his voice unsteady.

Csr. Spock straightens and grins up at him.

“I am glad to hear it,” he beams, then glances down. “Now...while I have you here...”

The Vulcan’s hands slowly travel up his thighs and begin unfastening his uniform pants once they reach their destination.

“We’re still on duty, Spock,” Kirk reminds him without much conviction.

The counselor’s eyes gaze at him from beneath long, dark lashes.

“I won’t keep you long,” he murmurs with a smirk.

His own discipline failing him, the captain gathers his loose hair away from his face without another word. Triumph glimmers in the Vulcan’s eyes.

“Computer, restrict access.”

“ _Restricting access._ ”

Csr. Spock tugs firmly at the opening of his pants until there’s enough room for his hand to slip inside. Kirk hisses through his teeth when those long, warm fingers he’s grown to crave wrap tightly around his swollen erection. At times he’s surprised how easily- and quickly- he can be persuaded into indecorous activities, but as the counselor wets his lips in anticipation when he manages to finally free him from the confines of his uniform, he’s really not that surprised.

His breathing is rapid and shallow as Csr. Spock gives him a few slow strokes, obviously relishing the velvety softness of his skin and the intensity of his scent. He watches through lust-heavy lids as those dark eyes glaze over, arousal blooming wide in his pupils.

He finally leans forward to give the flushed head a tentative lick. Kirk’s fingers tighten in his hair, the hot swipe sending tremors down his spine. The Vulcan then drags the flat of his tongue along his entire length before swirling around the flared ridge of his cock.

“ _Spock_ ,” the captain mumbles, his mind clouding with desire; he can feel the smile against his erection.

The air is knocked from his lungs when he’s engulfed by an almost overwhelming wet heat. He sucks in a shaky lungful and releases it in a moan as he hits the back of the counselor’s throat, strong muscles contracting around his head.

Csr. Spock hallows his cheeks on his unhurried accent, and his mouth opens slightly to allow another pass of his tongue around the crown as his hand strokes up his shaft.

“So good, Spock,” Kirk rasps, his cock throbbing under the attention.

His fingers tighten even more, and he guides the dark head by his hair. He intended to be gentle, and he was- at first, but the way those powerful lips milk him relentlessly while his tongue massages into firm flesh, he’s rapidly losing composure.

Csr. Spock’s throat vibrates with a happy sound as the captain’s hands still his movements and his hips begin to move. He thrusts his hips up somewhat harshly in his excitement, but he’s met with only the firm, excited kneading of the Vulcan’s hands on his thighs. Kirk groans loudly as his jaw goes slack, his relaxed muscles pulling him even deeper down his throat.

Sweat trickles down his back beneath his uniform and beads on his brow. His breath comes in desperate pants as he fucks into that wonderful, beautiful mouth. He close, very close.

The fevered lust pouring into his mind from his bondmate melts away any remnants of coherent thought and drips down like molten iron to churn in his lower belly.

The counselor cups his balls and gently massages them in his warm palm like fragile jewels. Combined with the scorching heat enveloping his cock, the sensations are more than he can take.

“Spock, I-“ the weak sound is lost to the desperate gasp escaping his lips as his head falls back and his eyes roll up.

The captain’s fingers tighten in the counselor’s silky black strands to a point he is sure must be painful, and it’s all he can do not to thrust even deeper into the plush, wet muscles at the back of his throat. Instead, with his last bit of control, he tries to pull away just enough to keep from choking his bondmate. He’s kept right in place, however, by strong hands gripping at his hips. He can’t hold on any longer.

Sparks ignite behind eyelids squeezed closed, and Kirk cries out as he fills the Vulcan’s mouth, his entire body trembling and toes curling in his boots. His whole being seems to drain from his form, his husband taking everything he is with each powerful swallow.

Spread fingers on his back catch him from collapsing on the desk, every bit of strength depleted from worked muscles. His hand slips from his hair to keep him propped upright, and he pulls in lungfuls of air in an attempt to catch his breath. His heart feels as through it may burst from his chest.

Shockwaves of pleasure ripple up his spine with every pass of Csr. Spock’s tongue as he licks him clean, determined not to waste a single drop of the nectar he’s given him. He whines softly at the tender attention.

Kirk glances down as the counselor finally lifts his head. Rapid breath passes through his parted, glistening lips. Only a sliver of color stretches around his blown pupils as he gazes up at him, his lashes low over his eyes. The corner of his mouth pulls into a lazy smirk.

“I told you,” he says, his voice like gravel, and his tongue drags across his upper lip to catch the faint remnants of his release.

Kirk’s chest begins to slow to a soft rise and fall as he smiles down at his husband.

“You have always been a man of your word, Counselor.”

The captain catches a dark, errant lock with his fingers and and tucks it behind his ear. He gently rubs the pointed tip until the Vulcan’s chest vibrates softly against his inner thighs.

“You should be returning to the bridge, Captain,” Csr. Spock murmurs; the band of warm color widening around his pupils. “Your crew will be wondering where you are.”

Kirk leans down to plant a kiss on his forehead before the counselor moves away to allow him off the desk. He fastens his uniform pants and straightens his top under the watchful gaze of bondmate, his swollen lips stretched into a small smile the entire time.

Satisfied with his work, and certain he his clear of any evidence of their activities, Kirk lifts his arms in an offering for inspection.

“Wonderful,” is the only thing Csr. Spock says.

He bows for a quick kiss.

“I’ll see you later, my love,” he tells him.

The counselor’s smile widens.

“I look forward to it,” he purrs and pulls him in for a deeper kiss.

The captain’s cock twitches in interest at the taste of himself on the Vulcan’s lips, but he has already been gone too long for the reason he had given.

He straightens and Csr. Spock winks at him before he turns to the door and walks out, his footsteps a little bouncier than before.

Back on the bridge, no one seems to have noticed, or at least acknowledge, his extended absence. He sits in his chair, glancing around. He believes he’s gotten away with it until a quiet presence joins an him at his side.

“Mr. Spock,” he greets him warmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “I see you were able to keep things under control in my absence.”

Spock glances down at him, his dark eyes glimmering with his hidden smile.

“Yes, Captain,” he replies. “And was you visit with the counselor a pleasant one?”

Kirk snaps his head to him, his cheeks heating up. Spock leans closer next to his ear so only he can hear.

“I expect a full report later, Captain.”

Kirk’s jaw drops and his lips pull into an excited smile as the Vulcan turns to return to his station. After a moment, he regains his faculties and clears his throat.

“Mr. Sulu, how long until we reach Serilia?”

“At our current speed, Captain, in 9 hours.”

“Let’s bump up our speed to Warp 5, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye, sir; 3 hours.”

“Very good, Mr. Sulu,” Kirk says with a nod and a quick glance at his bondmate watching him from the science station. “Steady as she goes.” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been so long, I know, but I promise this isn’t a prank. Things are starting to slow down a bit, so maybe I can finally start getting these chapters out sooner!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The doors to the transporter room open, and Kirk’s stomach clenches unpleasantly at the familiar soft swoosh. He tries discreetly to wipe his drenched palms on the side of his pants as he steps inside with Spock following closely behind. He nods at Scotty at the control station in a pathetic attempt to seem casual, like this is just another mission.

Why is he acting so foolishly? He’s a starship captain, for gods sakes, a captain of the Enterprise, no less. So why is he behaving like he’s about to jump into a pit where he can’t see the bottom?

Perhaps it is because this is possibly the most important mission of his career. Winning an alliance with Serilia would not only be a a shinning star on his record, but also a major event in the history of the Federation. With its rich deposits of dilithium crystal and its location along the Klingon boarder, failure just isn’t an option. They need to return with an agreement, whatever it takes.

_But they keep slaves._

“Have the coordinates been locked in, Mr. Scott?” he’s surprised how steady his voice sounds in contrast to his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“Aye, sir.”

Kirk pats the station, his fingers trembling slightly. He quickly brings it back to his side.

“Very good.”

He turns to where Csr. Spock waits patiently, arms clasped behind his back, from his place on the pad. With his long dark hair pulled back neatly behind his head, he’s a perfect picture of composure, edged with a hint of excited curiosity for the mission to come. Kirk glances away at the smile he gives him when their eyes meet, shame roiling violently in his belly.

How could he even look at him when he knows what he’s about to do? His beautiful husband enslaved by a brutal Empire, owned by a savage, sadistic man- his own counterpart- and they stand here on a transporter pad ready to make dealings with another race who can so easily keep others to do with as they wish? As if they are no more than an object to possess? His uniform itches his damp, clammy skin as he and Spock climb the few short steps to join him.

He places his feet squarely on the pad. His chest suddenly feels so tight, taxing his ability to breathe. The more he tells himself to relax, to calm down with a deep breath, the more his throat squeezes around his trachea. He’s afraid he may suffocate where he stands.

It feels like betrayal, and he doesn’t know how he will be able to face his bondmate after this.

He startles, his thoughts shattering, as two pairs of fingers wrap around each of his his own. Comfort flows into him like a warm blanket on a chilly night, freeing the pressure in his lungs. Reassurance clears away the doubt and fear and loathing flailing wildly in his head. Love pours into his blood stream through the points of contact, traveling through his veins to his frantic heart and envelopes it protectively until it returns to its slow, steady rhythm.

The captain pulls in a long, cleansing inhale. He open his eyes, not realizing he had closed them as he exhales the last bits of worry from his body. He glances at Spock and Csr. Spock on either side of him, watching him silently with soft gazes. He brings both hands to his mouth to kiss those wonderful Vulcan fingers.

“I don’t know how I ever could have believed that I was complete without both of you by my side,” Kirk isn’t quite sure if he’s saying the words aloud or just hearing them echo in his mind, but it doesn’t matter- his bondmates understand all the same.

He gives them one last kiss before releasing them. He straightens his uniform top and raises his chin with the new shot of confidence surging through him.

“Ready, Mr. Scott,” he announces, his voice strong.

“Aye, sir,” the man replies from the podium with a knowing grin.

“Energize.”

Scotty selects a few buttons, then pushes the lever, and his vision blurs and disappears in a cloud of prismatic particles.

Within seconds, the fog begins to clear and structures begin to emerge. Kirk takes a deep breath as weight and solidity returns to his body, and he feels the pressure against the soles of his feet. The tingling sensation just beneath his skin slowly dissipates as he exhales.

“Captain Kirk,” calls a nearby voice.

He turns at the sound of his name to a young man standing a short distance away. A very beautiful young man, at that. His short, dark hair sweeps up and away from his face, bringing all attention to his warm dark eyes- well, almost all attention. He seems alarmingly human save for the line of spots trailing down the middle of his face. Even in the bright sunshine spilling in through the high, open arches to the side, Kirk can see their soft blue glow.

He clenches his jaw, schooling the aversion bubbling in his throat at the solid gold collar fitted perfectly around the young man’s slender neck.

“Welcome to Serilia,” the man greets them, his sharp cheekbones leading to a welcoming smile. “I am Aeden, doulos of the Doyen.”

_You mean slave of the Doyen._

Kirk swallows his initial thought, and instead manages to return his warm expression.

“I am Captain James Kirk of the Enterprise and this is my first officer, Spock, and my ship’s counselor, Spock.”

The man looks between the three of them, something playful twitching at the corner of his mouth. He bows his head slightly to them.

“The Doyen is expecting you,” he announces.

“Captain,” Csr. Spock whispers, making him turn around. “If it is alright, I would like to explore the grounds on my own.”

Kirk arches an eyebrow at him; it would seem his husbands are beginning to rub off on him.

“We only just arrived, Spock,” he counters softly. “It is only polite to meet our hosts before-“

“There is no need for worry, Captain,” the young man interjects, startling the captain with the fact he was able to hear. “The Doyen will not be offended.”

With a sigh, Kirk gives a relenting nod. The counselor leans in for a quick kiss and turns to Spock to do the same.

“Counselor,” Aeden says. “There will be a soirée in the great hall after the third moon rises. The Doyen wishes to receive you as his guests of honor and would love for you to attend.”

The tip of his tongue traces the edge of his upper teeth as his eyelashes drop lower over his eyes. The trail of spots on his face smolder to an electric blue.

“As would I.”

Kirk raises his eyebrows and turns to the counselor. Csr. Spock gives him a wink.

“In that case, Aeden,” the Vulcan draws out the name, taking care to form each syllable with his tongue. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

With that, he glances at each of his bondmates with a silent farewell before spinning around to make his way down the hall.

“Captain, Commander, if you’ll follow me,” the young man motions with his arm and begins walking in the opposite direction.

He and Spock follow him, the footfall of their boots on the smooth golden stone echos against the tall vaulted ceiling of the long, open corridor. Kirk looks out through wide openings framed by stone arches to lush, green gardens. The sweet scent of flora hangs on the warm breeze that brushes lightly against his cheeks. It certainly is a paradise.

Despite the beauty of the palace, Kirk is inexplicably drawn to the way the hem of Aeden’s white silk tunic sways around his strong, lean thighs. It hangs off him from one shoulder and wraps around his narrow waist in some sort of short tunic curiously similar to those of Ancient Greece, leaving large portions of his well muscled body exposed. The leather straps of his sandles wrap tightly around well formed calves. Normally he would not stare so openly, his own civility enough to keep him in check, but the way his skin, the color of honeyed cream, glows radiantly each time the sun sneaks a kiss through the archways can hardly be ignored. Through the corner of his eye, he notices Spock watching as well, bringing a small smile to his lips. At least he is not the only one experiencing difficulties.

They pass into an open, spacious room surrounded by vibrant tropical plants. In the center sits a large, round bath inset into the floor. Facing away, a man lounges in the steaming water, his strong arms stretch out on either side of him, as small yellow flowers float languidly along its surface.

Aeden crouches down next to him, causing him to turn his head. The other man’s mouth stretches into a grin at the sight of him, and he reaches up to gently stroke his exposed thigh. The young man leans in to say something, and based on the way the other man’s head snaps to them, he assumes it’s to announce their arrival. He then plants a kiss on Aeden’s knee and easily lifts himself from the bath.

“Captain Kirk! My apologies,” his deep voice rumbles from his throat. “I must have lost track of time.”

He turns to them without hesitation- or warning. On full display , Kirk is unable to do much else than follow the streams of water cascading down his broad chest, between his pectoral muscles to the deep ripples of his abdomen. His mouth runs dry as his gaze continues along the prominent v taper of his hips to a thick cock and a pair of heavy balls waiting calmly, patiently, to be used. Kirk’s own cock twitches in interest at the sight. He’s like a god made flesh, chiseled and formed from the very stone that surrounds them now.

Aeden carries his robe to him, and to Kirk’s relief, and dismay, he pulls it over his rounded shoulders and wraps it securely around his waist.

“I am Thelou, Doyen of Serilia.”

Kirk swallows at his parched throat despite the hot steam hanging heavy in the air.

“I am Captain Kirk,” he manages though his voice seems a little higher to his ears. “And this is-“

“Your doulos, I’m sure,” the man closes the distance between he and Spock and clasps his hand in both of his own, gazing at him in wonder. “He is _exceptional_ , Captain...unlike any being I have ever before seen.”

Water continues to drip down from his thick wavy hair onto his face and along his sharp jawline until it falls from his strong chin to his chest. Spock arches an eyebrow at him, regarding the man with neutral curiosity, yet not moving to reclaim his hand. Kirk clears his throat.

“Actually, Doyen, Mr. Spock is my XO and science officer,” he explains kindly, then glances briefly at the Vulcan with a small smile before adding, “And my husband.”

“Oh!” Thelou’s eyes widen, a grin ghosting on the sensuous curve of his lips. “What a wonderful arrangement, Captain.”

He finally releases Spock’s hand.

“My apologies, Mr. Spock,” he says with a gracious bow.

“There is no need for apologies, Doyen,” Spock replies, his voice rather soft. “No offense was taken.”

He tucks his hands neatly behind his back, but Kirk notices, to his amusement, the darker shade coloring his cheeks.

Aeden offers a cloth to the Doyen, who takes it with a grin. He pats gently at his wet locks.

“Well, Captain, I understand you are here to orchestrate an agreement between my planet and your Federation,” Thelou states as he wraps the cloth around his broad shoulders.

“Yes, Doyen, that is my goal,” Kirk confirms politely. “One that I hope is yours as well.”

The Doyen dabs at his hair, soaking up the droplets collecting at the ends as he watches him with his dark eyes. The air around the seems to change into something heavier and more tense. The captain shifts slightly, his skin heating beneath his uniform under such an intense gaze.

“Whether or not an agreement can be achieved between our people is completely up to you, Captain,” the man finally tells him.

Spock arches an eyebrow at the comment, but remains silent. Thelou continues, not taking his eyes from the captain.

“I only make agreements with friends- those who I know I can trust, who I know are on a mission of peace and not malice...”

“I assure you, Doyen, our intentions are peaceful,” Kirk says.

A small smile plays at the man’s full lips.

“If you don’t mind, Captain, I will make that determination on my own,” he turns to Spock. “But in the meantime...”

He extends his arm out toward Spock, hand closed and turned away in a respectful manner. The Vulcan arches an eyebrow, but the gesture is not lost on him.

“Mr. Spock, I would be delighted if you and the captain would join me for my afternoon stroll through the gardens,” he says, his voice low and smooth as silk. “They receive the most beautiful lighting this time of day.”

Spock glances at Kirk, unsure how to respond to such attention. The captain simply gives him a smile to reassure him. Tentatively, he takes the doyen’s arm, slipping his hand into the crook.

“Thank you, Doyen. I would be very interested to examine the flora of your planet.”

A large grin spreads across the other man’s face, his light eyes shimmering.

“It would be an absolute pleasure to show them to you.”

A flush darkens the tips of Spock’s ears, and Kirk can’t help but feel his chest squeeze pleasantly at the sight. It’s rare for him to see anyone, besides himself, that can make Spock blush like that.

He wonders if he could make Spock moan like he can, too.

Kirk quickly pushes the thought from his mind, shocked that it had even formed in the first place. He had heard reports from Starfleet of strange...feelings while on Serilia, but he had just chalked them up to a placebo effect of sorts for officers sorely in need of some shore leave. Perhaps he had been too quick to dismiss them.

Spock’s actions indicate the thought had avoided detection, and Kirk thanks the gods for the small mercy of sparing him the awkwardness of an explanation. The Doyen walks, Spock close at his side, toward the open archway at a break in the thick foliage surrounding the room. His control intact and his resolve solidified, Kirk follows behind them.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Counselor Spock nearly purrs as his fingertips glide over the sheer drapery billowing languidly in the warm breeze. Sunshine shimmers on the gossamer threads as if it were woven into the fabric. Light and wispy like cirrus clouds, expert hands crafted these curtains, as well as the reliefs carved into the soft stone. Depictions of tales and triumphs of unknown heroes decorate the walls in intricate detail. He traces the smoothed edge of a small sword in wonder. Never had he encountered such skill.

The counselor continues down the hallway, his slow solitary footsteps barely a whisper along the open corridor. It’s considerably more peaceful in this area of the palace, away from the bubbling social interaction of the courtyard he passed through not long ago. The lush green gardens had been packed with Karinians dressed in all manner of silk and velvet and Arecelles adorned with their telltale collars as they basked in the sun, laughter peppering the hum of conversations.

Csr. Spock strolled by as discreetly as possible in his desire to be more of an observer than a participant. However, being one of only two Vulcans to visit this planet, that proved to be more difficult than anticipated. As he walked, some smiled through fevered whispers as they attempted to discreetly point at his ears. Others faltered as they marveled at his green complexion, unable to do much else. Normally, he imagined he would be annoyed, at least uncomfortable under such scrutiny, but strangely his current feeling is quite the opposite. He found he rather liked the attention.

Nevertheless, he greatly welcomes this moment of reprieve, leaving him free to enjoy the artistry surrounding him without distraction. The sun peeks through the arches to warm his face, and the wide leaves of the exotic plants flanking the palace sway languidly as if in greeting as he passes by. It’s a beautiful place, filled with incredibly beautiful people. It is a shame, he thinks bitterly, that this paradise is tainted by such a terrible custom.

It would take a miracle to form an alliance with a culture like this. Quickly squashing the resentment bubbling in his throat, Csr. Spock takes a deep breath. Control. He exhales. Balance. He inhales. Peace. And exhales again.

The hostility dispels through his limbs, draining from his veins. The mental exercises Spock has been teaching him are proving to be incredibly effective. The process has been...difficult, but he has made great progress, especially since Jim has been helping him practice. Though, he does tend to make it harder to concentrate.

The thought of his husbands brings a pleasant clench to his chest. His husbands- he can hardly believe it. It’s like living in a daydream conjured during a sleepy afternoon. How in any universe could one have such good fortune?

He brushes his fingertips gently against the velvety petals of an orange blossom incredibly similar to Terran dahlias. Jim would adore these. He’s particularly partial to bright flowers, especially ones that smell this sweet. Spock would appreciate it for it’s scientific qualities, of course, and the counselor wouldn’t say a word when he catches him stealing a sniff from the corner of his eye.

He’s grinning like an imbecile, he feels it in the stretch of his cheeks, but he doesn’t care. No one is around to see him anyway.

So lost in his thoughts, Csr. Spock barely has enough time to stop himself before diving headlong into a pair of massive doors. He tilts his head to take in the expanse of rich, dark umber wood inlaid with polished gold in a design of swirls and branches that could fool anyone into thinking the tree simply grows this way. Another example of the tremendous skill housed on this planet.

What could possibly be worthy of such a entrance? Instinctively, he reaches for the door handle, and gives it an exploratory twist.

Unlocked.

He pauses, his senses overcoming his sudden bought of curiosity. Admiring the grounds while on a stroll is very different than snooping into closed doors...even if it is unlocked. It would be unwise to tempt a misunderstanding in an already delicate situation. He chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

However, how much harm could one small peek cause?

The counselor turns the handle again, this time far enough to clear the bolt from the frame. He eases the door open just a crack, which takes slightly more effort than expected, to see inside. The loud rumble of excited voices hits him first, followed by the thick smell of spiced perfumes. He sees the soft sway of light fabric as it’s pulled to somewhere out of his line of sight. He pushes the door open wider while his heart thumps harder against his side. The room is filled with Arecelles, judging by the golden collars around their necks, but their beauty far surpasses any he has seen yet during his visit. The brightly colored fabrics they adorn barely cover their perfectly carved bodies as they brush through lengths of silken hair and rub glistening oil into smooth skin. They were definitely preparing for something- perhaps the banquet Aeden mentioned before his departure.

Csr. Spock pushes the door open even further to better observe the buzz of activity. He is treading dangerously close to being discovered, but the sharp thrill in his chest makes him bold. His observations in the gardens are confirmed in that all Arecelles are marked by a line of luminescent spots, though they tend to change along the color spectrum. What causes the change he as yet to ascertain, but he finds the transition to be mesmerizing.

He watches as a female Arecelle at a nearby mirror, with her crimson hair piled a top her head in an attempt to keep it out of the way, runs a brush along the hollow of her cheek bone. The male Arecelle next to her dusts his eyelid with a powder until it is a light shade of blue. The counselor smiles to himself as he watches them primp their already otherworldly features. This must be quite a banquet they are expected to attend.

His blood turns to ice at the loud cry from a woman lounging on an arch-sill. She spoke in her native tongue, but the meaning was undeniable. He was snooping, and he had been caught. He straightens immediately, nearly knocking the back of his head against the doorway.

Another woman sitting at a large mirror, who had been facing away from him until this moment, snaps her head around at the disturbance, and Csr. Spock’s breath catches in his throat. Her skin is the color of midnight and her eyes shimmer like stars. The spots trailing down the middle of her face glow a deep amethyst with a hint of gold. Her long dark hair slips from its bundle on her shoulder with her swift movement, cascading down like night touching the earth. If the carvings on the walls are to be any representation of such beauty, it doesn’t come close. She is the night sky incarnate, a goddess among mortal beings.

“My apologies,” the counselor manages to sputter.

All eyes are on him now, the room completely silent, and he can feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“I meant no harm, I-I’m sorry-“

He moves to make his escape and take the door with him. He needs to get out- now!

“Wait!”

Against every cell screaming at him to move, he halts at the call, reluctantly bringing his eyes back up to its source. The woman stands from her cushion, her gaze locked onto him with tactical focus. He remains completely still as if in doing so, he could disappear. She bounds to him as if gravity is nothing more than a concept, and the silks draped around her flow with the graceful movements. His breaths die away as she stops in front of him, her eyes boring into his relentlessly.

“Who are you?” she asks softly, almost gentle, and glances at his ears. “A Vulcan?”

Her brow relaxes into realization.

“You are Spock of the Federation, are you not?”

Somewhat startled by the accuracy of her information, he simply nods.

“I am,” he answers just as quietly, then clears his throat. “Counselor of the starship Enterprise.”

“No.”

Csr. Spock’s jaw snaps shut in surprise, confused by her response.

“I am Ilana, doulos of the Doyen, and they are the doulos of the council members,” she says with a gesture of her hand to the others. “You are the doulos of Captain James Tiberius Kirk and Commander S’chn T’gai Spock.”

The counselor opens his mouth to correct the assumption, but the woman raises her hand to stop him.

“My people have been isolated for many years, and I have watched them grow and prosper with pride,” she begins evenly. “But I know we have reached the point where it is necessary to branch out into the galaxy and to form alliances.”

She raises her chin slightly, her gaze strong.

“I understand that the Federation has a strong motive o come to an agreement with my people, and that can only be done with approval from the council,” she continues. “And approval can only be gained if your representatives have a doulos.”

Csr. Spock watches her intently, finally understanding her meaning.

“I believe it is in our best interest to align ourselves with the Federation, Counselor, but I need for the council to see that as well,” she says. “Will you help to make that happen?”

Still completely at a loss for words, and without proper time to even process what has just happened, all he can do is slowly nod. The woman gives him a bright smile.

“Wonderful,” she purrs. “In that case, Counselor...”

She motions over two others, who take him by each hand.

“The doulos of our guests of honor has arrived,” she announces. “We must prepare him for the banquet; we haven’t much time.”

The room once again erupts into a roar of excited chatter as he’s swarmed by the other doulos and is pulled further inside. The door closes quietly behind him.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It is a beautiful afternoon, just as the Doyen promised, and Spock and Kirk stroll alongside him at an unhurried pace. Aeden follows close behind, silent but attentive. The air hangs heavy with moisture, accentuating the heat, and though Spock is quite comfortable under the conditions he notices the light sheen of sweat already beginning to form on Kirk’s skin. The captain, however, says nothing about his discomfort.

They round a soft bend in the path and come upon a massive spread of lush, green grass filled with a churning crowd. Spock arches an eyebrow at the number of sparsely clothed Kirinians lounging in the sun, accompanied by equally bare Arecelles. He watches a young woman with hair the color of the ocean and facial spots a vibrant orange thread her long fingers through the ink black locks of the Kirinian female resting her head in her lap. The tenderness of her caresses accompanied by softness in her gaze force him to look away with a slight flush across his cheeks.

Thelou points out a bush speckled with large orange flowers up ahead. Spock watches the way Kirk’s eyes light up at the blossoms. According to the Doyen’s narrative, they are the source of the thick sweet scent drifting on the breeze along with the salty tang of the ocean in the distance.

He suddenly has the strange urge to pluck one of the jewels and offer it to his bondmate. He almost does, his hand already half raised to the nearest flower, but he quickly stops himself. He glances down at his fingers, the flower still seducing his touch.

The scene begins to play in his mind- the swell of joy from this captain as he cups the gift in his hands, the glimmer in those golden eyes. Though considered to be an emotional indulgence, perhaps he himself would lean in for a sniff of its scent, only then to steal a kiss, his bondmate tasting just as sweet.

“Mr. Spock,” a gentle, yet firm voice breaks him from the spell.

A knowing smile plays softly on Kirk’s lips and brings a happy shimmer to his gaze. Spock’s hand snaps back to his side, ignoring the heat growing in the tips of his ears, and quickens his pace to rejoin them.

“I must admit, Thelou, that I was quite surprised by the sophistication of your defense systems,” Kirk says. “Your technology is more powerful than anything known to the Federation.”

“Yes, the genius of our scientists has made them virtually impossible to penetrate, Captain,” Thelou replies; he pauses and gestures with his head to the man behind them. “In fact, Aeden was a part of the team that developed the design.”

Shock is visible on the captain’s face for an intense, but brief moment. Aeden’s eyes flicker away as though nervous- guilty even- yet no such emotions are detected in his thoughts. _Odd_. His attention is quickly stolen away by Kirk’s voice.

“I hope you don’t mind my bluntness, but why does a pacifist culture need such systems?”

Spock senses a twinge of something hostile in his words. The Doyen just smiles, though, completely unaffected.

“For centuries we have chosen harmony, love, and pleasure as our way of life,” he gestures to the lounging crowd with a broad sweep of his arm. “But the galaxy is vast and full of those who do not. We are peaceful, but not naive.”

“Yes, dilithium crystals are quite a valuable resource,” Spock adds. “It would certainly be foolish to leave it unguarded.”

Thelou stitches his eyebrows together when he turns to him.

“The dilithium? No, that is not of which I speak. Compared to the true treasure of our world, those crystals are nothing more than rubble among rocks.”

Spock straightens and brings his hands behind his back, curious. He waits patiently for him to elaborate.

“Our defenses are for the Arecelles, Commander.”

“The Arecelles?” Kirk interjects.

“Yes, Captain,” Thelou replies pleasantly.

Spock notes the brief twitch in the captain’s upper lip as something dark begins to fill his mind.

“I see...so are they to keep others out...or in?”

Spock’s jaw clenches at his bite of festering anger. It still amazes him after all these years among humans how easily they are controlled by their emotions. He presses a subtle thought of calm from his mind to the captain. Jim. The man glances at him quickly, acknowledging that he understood, but his smoldering fire quickly turns it to ash.

Thelou’s steps come to a pause.

“Your displeasure is quite obvious, Captain, but I confess I cannot determine its cause,” Thelou says gently. “Please, speak freely. There must be no secrets among friends.”

Please, Jim. A rare sense of worry gives strength to his silent plea. These treaty discussions are very delicate, as was explained to the three of them by Admiral Fitzpatrick:

“ _I understand this will be a difficult situation for all of you, but we are bound by the principles of the Prime Directive. It is not our place to judge or to interfere, and it is imperative that we secure this location for the Federation. I don’t have to remind you, gentlemen, that this is not just about dilithium crystals. If the Klingons gain control of this planet, they will be in a position to take hold of this entire sector. You must reach an agreement with the council by any means necessary._ ”

However, he has never known anyone to keep James T. Kirk from doing what he feels is right.

“The Arecelles are your captives, Doyen- your _slaves_ ,” the captain snaps. “We may not know much about each other, but you must understand that those of the Federation detest such customs.”

Thelou listens quietly, his face neutral, though his dark eyes betray his intense attention.

“Humans especially would prefer death to captivity. No other living being should ever be subjected to it. The spirit needs freedom, otherwise, it withers and dies,” Kirk continues; Spock swallows at the intensity of his emotion

“A prisoner is a prisoner, no matter how benevolent the captors.”

Kirk takes a cleansing breath, seemingly relived by having said his piece. Spock watches the Doyen intently, fully aware of his churning thoughts. He’s surprised to find them quite calm.

“You are absolutely correct, Captain,” Thelou says softly. “We do not know each other.”

Spock’s lips purse slightly at the comment, and the captain’s eyebrows stitch together.

“You misunderstand our ways, James.”

Silence blooms between them. Finally, Thelou decides where to begin.

“Before our Awakening, back when the Kirinians were the only inhabitants of this planet, we lived for war. Every moment was filled with a the lust for death. Each day began with a slaughter and ended with a fresh layer of blood,” he says, his gaze far away. “Pure primitive destruction...that was our only purpose.”

He swallows, and Spock senses the difficulty of reliving those memories.

“When the Arecelles arrived in their great ship, we believed it to be our reckoning- that perhaps the gods that created us had returned to correct their mistake. We were prepared to fight to our deaths and take as many of the invaders with us as we could.”

Thelou glances up at Aeden, his eyes soft and shimmering with building emotion. He cups his cheek in his large hand and lightly rubs his cheekbone with his thumb.

“But they would not fight,” he says quietly, and Aeden nuzzles into his palm. “They were peaceful.”

With a smile, he slowly brings his hand to his side and turns back to him and Kirk.

“The Arecelles’ homeworld was embroiled in a vicious civil war. Conditions had deteriorated beyond hope- beyond redemption,” he continues. “Those who opposed the bloodshed escaped from their planet in search of refuge. Serilia happened to be a near match in environmental conditions to their world...they were truly gods from above- beautiful, extremely intelligent, wise, and pacifist. They settled here, and with them they brought the foundations of the life we have today.”

Undeterred by the story, Kirk raises his chin in a challenge.

“The Arecelles were in need of a home, broken and lost, and you took advantage of that,” he accuses bitterly. “You enslaved them because they would not fight.”

Thelou stares at him for a moment, his chest rising with his soft breath. His calm aura is perfectly intact, though, and Spock can’t help by admire his control.

“You have a strong mind, James. I see I cannot persuade you with words,” he says. “Perhaps if you could feel it...as I do...as I’m sure Spock does as well.”

He is correct. Since arriving on this planet, he has been constantly threaded together with the minds of others, connected with invisible strands like that of a spider’s web. Vulcan has a similar feel in some ways in that one is always mentally aware of the other, yet it still differs drastically than this society of telepaths.

Each thought, each emotion, hums along that connection and leaves its impression on anyone within range. Through all of it, he has yet to detect any ill thought, any anger or hatred or even envy. It’s like bobbing in the waves of the ocean, carrying the mind on a steady ebb and flow of warm sensations.

He finds it beautiful, really, and perhaps it has taken a bonding to his mates for him to truly appreciate the experience.

He looks to Kirk, whose eyes are already locked on him. Spock gives him a slight nod. The Doyen stretches a hand towards him.

The captain cautiously fits his hand in his. Using Thelou as a conduit, the moment he is connected is marked with a sharp gasp. His eyes snap open wide at Thelou, then to Aeden smiling quietly at his side. He glances around at the crowd still bubbling around him. A multitude of expressions flicker across his face as he tries to process the onslaught of information.

Spock touches his fingers in reassurance. The telepathic connection on this planet is so strong it unlikely the captain cannot feel it even with his lack of abilities, and he knows what he is experiencing now is far more intense than he expected. Kirk squeezes his fingers, almost to steady himself as he lets the sensations flow through him.

When Thelou finally releases his hand, his breaths come in fast, harsh succession as if he had been running. He swallows, making his throat bob with the movement.

“I don’t understand...the collars...” he gasps. “Then why the collars?”

Spock’s eyebrow raises at the palatable shift in the warm afternoon air. A smile pulls Thelou’s lips back to expose a sliver of teeth.

“It has been many, many years since our Awakening- since the Arecelles helped to bring peace to our world and our minds,” he says. “But we Kirinians retain a relentless, very primitive need...”

He glances at Aeden, who returns his gaze beneath lowered lids.

“Domination, Captain; it is as necessary to a Kirinian as the air we breathe, the food we eat, and the nectar we drink,” he gently takes the young man by the chin, and his lips part in a soft sigh in his strong fingers. “And to our great pleasure, we discovered that the Arecelles have an insatiable desire to be dominated.”

He pushes his thumb into the young man’s mouth, and his lips close around it in a quiet moan. Spock’s own lips part, his ears on fire.

“Their beauty, stamina...responsiveness...they are unmatched by any other species in the galaxy- the perfect sexual partner.”

Thelou slowly pulls his thumb from Aeden’s mouth, leaving his full lips slick with his own saliva. Spock discreetly sighs in relief when the intensity in the air releases, and the Doyen brings his attention back to them. Aeden’s dark eyes seem to shimmer more brightly.

“The use of collars are deeply ingrained in our culture, though they symbolize something far more...recreational than one would expect,” he explains. “But you see, that is only a small part of who they are, of what they mean to us.”

“That is the reason for our robust defense systems, Captain. There are many in the universe who would do anything to get their hands on the Arecelles simply for their beauty. They do not understand that their greatest treasure is not their bodies, but their minds,” says Thelou. “The doulos are everything to the Kirinians. We protect them at all costs.”

His stare is intense as it bores into the captain. Kirk simply nods his understanding, glancing quickly at Spock, before they resume their stroll.

The pleasant hum of conversation around them is peppered with cheerful laughs. A couple lying together on a blanket in the grass kiss, lips moving together as hands lazily caress bare, sun-kissed skin. A group off in the distance tosses a ball back and forth until one of the players is tackled by another and they collapse into a giggling heap.

Spock feels the anger slowly drain from Kirk. His mood is...lighter now. Instead of resentment, his mind fills with wonder as he looks around, though confusion still lingers.

A young woman approaches them as they pass through a corridor of flowering trees, a collar around her neck. The confusion he senses from Kirk intensifies as he looks at it. There’s something else there as well...something...intriguing he can’t quite identify.

She leans into to say something to the Doyen, who nods his acknowledgment of her message.

“Unfortunately, I must attend to some details for the festivities this evening,” he announces. “Aeden will show you to your quarters.”

“Yes, Doyen,” the young man replies.

Thelou gives him a warm smile. The energy between the two seems to vibrate with its incredible power. He then turns to Kirk, his brow furrowed.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Captain,” he starts. “I was told there were three in your landing party.”

“There is, Doyen; my ships’s counselor has taken the liberty of exploring the grounds on his own,” Kirk explains. “I hope that is alright.”

“Quite alright. I look forward to meeting him this evening,” he says, then glances at Spock. “Is it true he is your...duplicate?”

“Without going into too much detail, yes, he is,” Spock answers cordially. “Though I feel “duplicate” is too simple of a description for our bondmate.”

Thelou’s eyes widen and a grin spreads across his face. Excitement bleeds into his mind.

“Of course. Captain; Commander.”

He bows to each of them before spinning around to follow the young woman along the path. They round a corner and disappear into the palace. Aeden steps out before them.

“If you will please follow me,” he says with an outstretched arm back the way they came.

Spock walks close alongside Kirk behind the young man, and the crowd continues to bubble happily around them.

***

After a twisting maze through stone archways and incredibly lush gardens interwoven with Arecelles and Kirinians just as vibrant as the exotic plants, the trio arrives at a door atop a wide spiral staircase. Spock estimates based on the duration of their climb that their quarters are nestled within one of the palace towers.

Aeden twists the large, gold handle and pushes the door in. As it turns out, he is correct. Bright sunshine burnt to a rich orange with the time of day spills unhindered into the room through the three walls, which are nothing more than massive arches. The ocean gently churns against the beach sand far below and cuts deep into the horizon. Kirk immediately rushes to one of the three balconies to better appreciate the spectacular view.

Spock sweeps his gaze around the room, secretly admiring the colorful array of silks covering the gigantic, low-set bed and sheer linen curtains swaying languidly with the breeze. A large rug made of something reminiscent of fur stretches across the soft stone floor. Reliefs depicting various myths, plants, and even sexual encounters are carved into nearly every inch of the stone walls. The entire space is a work of art.

“There are still some time before evening arrives and the festivities begin,” Aeden says, gently breaking them from their moment of wonder. “I shall return then to escort you to the grand hall.”

“Thank you, Aeden,” Spock tells him, turning away from the stories frozen in stone.

Aeden bows slightly, and starts to make his leave until there’s a call from the captain at the far balcony.

“Aeden!”

The young man stops, eyebrows raised. Kirk takes a deep breath and swallows.

“I’m sorry.”

The brows furrow.

“Whatever for, Captain?”

Kirk turns to him fully, his gaze earnest.

“For making judgements about your people...for condemning a culture before I have a chance to better understand,” he explains quietly, yet firmly. “For assuming the worst about your Doyen...and you.”

Aeden’s mouth pulls back into a warm smile, and the spots on his face glow an emerald green.

“In our studies of this quadrant and the peoples within it, it is evident that our way of life is very...different than what most are accustomed to,” he replies kindly. “There is no need for apologies, Captain.”

He gives him a small bow before doing the same for Spock. He then takes his leave, closing the door softly behind him.

Spock approaches Kirk, who is turned back to the sun just kissing the horizon. A river of flame slices through the calm glass of the ocean surface. The play of light on water produces an incredibly hypnotic effect, which he may have succumbed to if he could not sense the distress from his bondmate.

“You are unsettled, _ashayam_ ,” he says as he joins him at his side; he wraps two fingers around his. “Please tell me what is troubling you.”

Kirk squeezes his fingers and looks down to where they are linked. The muscles in his jaw flex as he searches for his words.

“I lost my control back there, Spock. I unnecessarily put this entire mission in jeopardy because I couldn’t keep my emotions in check,” he says, his eyes still down. “I could feel the anxiety it was causing you, but I ignored it.”

He squeezes his fingers again, bringing his gaze to the base of his neck.

“I’m sorry I did that to you.”

Spock gently takes his chin and tilts it up to him. He leans in to kiss his lips, relishing the soft give of flesh as he does.

“I have always known you to act on what you believe to be good and just,” he says, his warm breath skating across the captain’s mouth.

He meets his gaze, watching his golden eyes catch the dwindling sunlight.

“The reaction you had today stems from a primitive place in your psyche that has kept your species alive for centuries...but it is impossible for you to act out of panic or malice. It is not in your nature.”

When he straightens, a soft blush colors the captain’s cheeks.

“I believe it is an ancient Terran axiom that one’s first thought is conditioned,” he says softly. “But the following thought depends on the quality of character. And you, _ashayam_ , are of the highest quality.”

A small smile threatens Kirk’s mouth. His long lashes rest on his cheeks momentarily before he returns his gaze.

“Thank you, my love, but,” he coyly bites at his bottom lip. “I thought we already had a ship’s counselor.”

Spock’s eyes narrow and he zeroes in on a rounded ear with his fingers. Kirk giggles loudly, sending a pleasurable thrill through his chest with more strength than he’s willing to admit. The captain clutches him closer as if that may save him from the torment- it does.

He nuzzles his nose into the soft locks of his hair and takes a moment to appreciate the steady rhythm of the human heart thumping against his ribs.

Ship’s counselor.

Like a strum on a string, the words vibrate in his mind, conjuring his most recent memory of his other bondmate. It has been hours now since they parted with no word from him over the comm or sighting around the grounds.

“I am increasingly curious as to where Spock has ventured,” Spock says; he glances out an archway at the setting sun. “The festivities will be upon us soon.”

“I also am curious, but we shouldn’t worry. This party they’re throwing for us tonight is rumored to be quite a spectacle. He’ll find his way to us,” Kirk assures him. “Knowing what I know now about this planet, I’m sure he’s enjoying himself- and definitely staying out of trouble.”

Spock leans back to look down at the captain in his arms.

“That is highly unlikely.”

Kirk gives him a large grin.

“I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Aeden gently closes the door behind him, a small smile on his lips. How odd humans are- always voicing what is already known, what can already be felt. He did appreciate the captain’s apology, however, as unnecessary as it was. It was...sweet.

The warmth of the moment carries him down the spiral staircase to the corridor. The walls are aflame with oranges and reds of the dying sunlight seeping through the archways. He loves this time of day- when the sun gives its last burst of life before succumbing to night. Today, though, he finds himself wishing for the sun to stand still...for night to never come. He is so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the hand reaching out from the shadows before it’s already around his arm.

Another hand clamps over his mouth to silence his surprise as he’s yanked to the side. Air escapes his lungs when his back hits the wall. His eyes search frantically in the darkness until a face begins to form.

“Hello, Aeden,” comes a chilling purr.

Even in the low light he can now make out the dark hair that frames the soft features of a woman’s face. She gives him a wide grin, adding to the ferocity in her eyes.

“Shevash!”

“Quiet, you fool! With your shouting we’ll certainly be discovered!” she leans in closer. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

He shakes his head, and she slowly releases her grip. She reaches behind his ear to remove a tiny device latched onto the base of his skull. He winces at the slight sting and instinctively reaches up to rub at the spot.

“You don’t need this around me. I want to be sure I can feel your every thought,” she says. “In case you lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Shevash,” Aeden replies bitterly, checking his fingers for blood. “What would be the point?”

The woman gives him a light tap on the nose.

“I’m so pleased you finally see it that way, my darling,” she cooes. “I was beginning to worry...”

“I’m not ready,” he snaps. “I told you I need time.”

The woman leans away enough to catch the sunlight. The deep green complexion of her skin battles against the orange glow.

“I wouldn’t risk a visit for that- I know you need time to prepare,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “What I want is to know why there are Federation officers in the palace.”

Aeden struggles to swallow, his throat suddenly so dry. Shevash stares at him intently, like a snake watching a mouse. He almost expects a hiss and a forked tongue to slither out between her lips.

“It is a diplomatic visit- they wish to form an alliance with our people,” he tells her.

He winces at the eerie flicker in her eyes.

“When were you planning to inform me of this visit?”

“I learned of their visit only yesterday, Shevash, I swear to you,” Aeden sputters, his voice wavering. “Their request was very sudden- so sudden they didn’t even allow for an ambassador in their party. There is only a starship captain and his first officer.”

“And the third?”

“T-third? Oh-um-the ship’s counselor,” he adds quickly.

His last bit of calm swiftly deteriorates as her grip tightens painfully around his arm.

“Shevash, please-“

“Don’t worry, I believe you, my little dove,” she purrs and releases him.

Aeden rubs at the abused flesh, discoloration already beginning to show.

“I need you to remember, Aeden, what I can do to you,” she continues lightheartedly as she twirls a lock of his hair in her fingers. “I found a little hole in your defense systems, remember? Do you know how much information like that is worth? How many civilizations in this sector would love the opportunity to get inside this little paradise of yours?”

“Then what are you waiting for? Why do you need to take them?” the outburst echoes softly down the corridor; Aeden struggles to still his quivering lower lip.

Shevash grips a handful of his hair and knocks his head harshly against the wall, making him wince.

“Because why would I open the gates when I can be the exclusive supplier,” she hisses. “You limit access, you limit supply, which only increases profit with this high a demand. It’s basic economics.”

“You sound like a Ferengi.”

“Well, it should be no surprise that some of my clients are Ferengi,” she gives him an unsettling grin. “And they’ve already made impressive offers.”

Her fingers loosen in his hair, and she feigns an attempt to smooth the ruffled locks.

“But if something were to happen, Aeden, if you were unable to deliver on your promises, you’d be useless to me- your whole planet- worthless.”

She leans in closer until her breath brushes hot against his cheeks.

“I would greatly prefer not to, but if our plans are hindered in anyway by those Federation officers, I will not hesitate to divulge the information that I have to my crew for distribution, do you understand?”

Aeden’s blood runs cold at the hint of malice simmering in her voice. He barely has the fortitude to nod his reply.

“Don’t look so down, my sweet peach. All I’m asking for in return is just a small group of you very best- a skim of the cream of the crop. Is that too much to ask for the safety of your planet?”

Aeden glances away, unable to meet her intense gaze.

“I’ll be livestreaming the party for my clients. That will ensure they have the best opportunity to view the merchandise before purchase- and produce the highest bids. Once each of my clients select their desired Arecelle, I’ll give you their names for extraction. Any questions?”

He swallows the fear in his throat to keep his voice from shaking when he asks:

“Will they be the only ones?”

Shevash leans back, watching him closely. Her lips pull into a small smile.

“That is yet to be determined. I’ve stumbled upon a treasure trove, Aeden; I’m only just learning how valuable it is.”

She caresses his cheek with the back of her fingers, her eyes following the movement across his supple skin.

“On Orion, we adapted to this way of life in order to survive, but Arecelles...” she traces the sharp edge of his jaw. “Your kind is made for this- as if you’ve been selectively bred to make each and every one of you absolutely...perfect.”

She finishes her observation with a flick of her tongue as she stares down at his lips. If not for the overwhelming fear paralyzing his mind, he may wrench from her grasp in disgust.

“All you need to worry about for now, my dear, is keeping those officers out of my way. I’ll have the list to you by morning,” she straightens, and Aeden nearly sighs in relief when she withdrawals her hand. “Do you know where they are?”

“I’ve just escorted the captain and the commander to their chambers. I’m not sure where the counselor is.”

There’s a faint buzzing sound, and Shevash pulls out a tablet from her back pocket. She quickly types out a message.

“My clients are getting a little restless...I want you to be sure, Aeden,” she glances up at him, the blue light from her tablet casting deep shadows across her face. “ _Find him_.”

“Yes, Shevash.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

The sun sets, igniting the sky into a rich golden hue and glitters along the vast stretch of ocean not too far in the distance. The dwindling sunlight seems to stir the already excited doulos as they prepare for the evening. They mill about the room to brush something here and slather on something there in a buzz of enthusiastic chatter.

 

From his place in the massive bath on the balcony, Csr. Spock barely notices the chaos. He stares down into the water, absently watching the pink and blue oils swirl around the surface.

 

“Wow,” he says quietly.

 

Ilana, sitting on the balcony ledge, makes another brushstroke through her long, onyx hair.

 

“Are you up to it, Counselor? I know it is much to ask of a guest, especially during their first visit, but time is a scarce luxury,” she states, her tone soft.

 

“Agreed.”

 

For the last while, Ilana has explained to him the basic social customs of the Kirinians and the Arecelles, focusing mainly on those for the upcoming party...and what is expected of him.

 

“You have concerns.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

“Of course,” he replies as he watches a small cluster of bubbles float by.

 

“Such as?”

 

“I’m afraid I’ll be a rather lackluster doulos. I have nothing more than my uniform to wear to this party.”

 

“Aeden has been tasked with providing attire for you, your captain, and your commander. He is brilliant and incredibly talented in many things, one of which is fashion.”

 

“You speak very highly of him. Are the two of you close?”

 

“Yes- we are bonded.”

 

Csr. Spock arches an eyebrow. As the pieces of his memory fit together, he finally makes the connection to Aeden’s introduction. Really, he feels rather foolish for not realizing it sooner.

 

“Both you and Aeden are bonded to the Doyen.”

 

“Yes,” Ilana confirms.

 

He mulls over the discovery for a moment before saying:

 

“From what I’ve learned of your culture, a bonding is usually between one Kirinian and one Arecelle.”

 

There’s a pause in Ilana’s brushstrokes, and she grins down at him in the bath.

 

“Yes, that is true, but there are sometimes exceptions to that norm. I would think you, most of all, would be sympathetic.”

 

He glances away briefly with a smirk.

 

“Touché.”

 

Wait. The smirk slowly falls from his face and his brows pinch together. A doulos- a slave- knows his marital status? As much as he can remember, he didn’t divulge that information. They had transferred files of the landing party in order to better facilitate an agreement, but it seems odd that she is apprised of such details, even if she is bonded to the Doyen.

 

“You were permitted to read my personnel file?” he asks casually, flicking at the water.

 

“Yes,” Ilana answers simply.

 

She sets down her brush without further explanation and gently pulls her hair up into a loose bun. She stands from the balcony ledge and pulls at the strings of her long robe. The crimson silk flutters softly to the stone at her feet, and Csr. Spock clenches suddenly as if he’d received a blow to the stomach.

 

Completely bare, every inch of her bare skin glows in the rich sunset. Each curve and crease seems perfectly placed as if she had been shaped by an incredibly meticulous hand. Softly rounded breasts sit high on her chest, and her tapered torso flows down to wide hips. Though he couldn’t have accurately speculated about the divinity of her form, certain aspects are there as expected- except one.

 

At the apex of her long, muscled legs rests a large, thick cock above a pair of heavy balls. The absence of hair in the area gives it a more pronounced presence alongside her feminine physique.

 

“I sense you’ve had a great shock,” Ilana says, a small smile playing on her lips. “Do I offend you?”

 

Csr. Spock swallows at his parched throat. After a couple more beats of his startled heart, he breaks from his stupor.

 

“No...this is...unexpected,” he manages, feeling his mind returning to him; he tilts his head with a smirk. “But not unwelcome.”

 

Ilana’s eyebrows raise and her smile widens just a touch. She dips her foot into the water, the other following close behind, and slowly eases down until she’s immersed to her clavicle. Csr. Spock watches her quietly until he’s unable to hold back the question gnawing at him.

 

“I mean no offense when I ask...are all Arecelles as you are-I mean-“

 

“No, not all Arecelles are as I am.” she answers bluntly, sitting back. “And please do not worry about offending me with your questions. I can feel your intentions are good and your curiosity genuine. If we are to become friends, we must first know each other, yes?”

 

He nods, and she leans her head on a cushion behind her.

 

“Arecelles are typically born male or female, but on rare occasion one of my kind, the Dagrora, is born,” she explains. “We are extremely rare and highly prized among my people.”

 

Csr. Spock clenches his jaw at the implication, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. The smirking face of the captain of his universe flickers through his thoughts.

 

“For your bodies?” he asks bitterly.

 

Ilana stares at him for a moment before answering.

 

“No, Spock, for our minds.”

 

He cocks his head to the side.

 

“Explain- please.”

 

Her gaze softens, revealing a hint of her hidden smile. Warmth pours into his thoughts.

 

“Dagrora are believed to host two souls, one feminine, one masculine,” she arches a groomed eyebrow. “As you’ve noticed, our bodies tend to exhibit this truth.”

 

Csr. Spock ignores the heat growing in his cheeks. She continues.

 

“We hold two perspectives at all times- see and understand things that others do not. As such, we are considered to have the soundest of minds. Our logic and awareness is most trusted. Dagrora are usually most compatible with those chosen to become the next Doyen- with good reason.”

 

“Fascinating.”

Ilana gives him a quick smile and brings her arms up to rest along the rim of the bath.

 

“Now, I cannot believe after what I have explained to you that your attire is your only concern. What else?”

 

Shifting back to his upcoming responsibilities, his nervousness comes to the forefront of his mind.

 

“This...ritual...I am expected to perform...will I be alone?” he asks softly.

 

“No, it is performed with the kyrios.”

 

“Kyrios?”

 

“Master; in your case- masters.”

 

The counselor shifts in the bath, producing ripples along the glassy surface.

 

“Will...am I-“

 

“The answer to your question is no. It may not seem so to outlanders, but there is a strict etiquette we follow,” Ilana interjects.

 

He raises an eyebrow.

 

“Etiquette? Sounds restrictive for a hedonistic society. One could argue that it diminishes the enjoyment.”

 

She gives him a devilish grin.

 

“To the contrary, Spock; denial tends to heighten pleasure. If you get whatever you want when you want it, you’ll quickly bore. Etiquette allows for a healthy, safe environment to explore...and builds anticipation,” she says. “Guests are virtually verboten during their first visit to any Kirinian or Arecelle- even the Doyen. It allows them the opportunity to know us first and the freedom to choose whether or not to return.”

 

Csr. Spock struggles to conceal a his smile.

 

“Hm, unfortunate...”

 

Ilana’s eyes narrow slightly, and her smile widens.

 

“I said guests are forbidden during their first visit. If they choose to return...that is a different matter.”

 

Csr. Spock watches her beneath low lashes as he leans back on his own cushion with a grin. He also brings his arms up to rest along the rim of the bath, steam rolling of his heated skin. He closes his eyes with a soft, content sigh.

 

They settle into a comfortable silence. The only sounds coming from the excited hum of voices inside the room. His anxiety dissipates, and his muscles melt into the warmth of the bath. The salts poured into the water by another doulos relax him even more to the point he’s sure he’s turned to jelly. He pulls in an indulgent inhale, filling his lungs with oil-scented steam.

 

It’s possible, what he’s expected to do. He’s never been faced with a task exactly like this, but the prospect is...intriguing. Convincing Spock won’t be issue. He knows that any reservations he has will be pushed aside by his sense of responsibility to make this trip a success. Jim, on the other hand...may take more persuasion.

 

Nonetheless, it needs to happen or this whole mission is in jeopardy.

 

Csr. Spock is yanked from his thoughts by a soft tap on his bare shoulder. His eyes snap open to a young woman staring back down at him, her spots transitioning from a deep orange to bright yellow. She gives him a shy smile.

 

“If I may, Counselor, I need to measure your neck,” she tells him quietly.

 

“My neck? What for?”

 

“Your collar,” Ilana chimes in from her side of the bath. “Doulos are never seen in public without their collars.”

 

He hesitates for a beat, but then leans up from the wall of the bath and raises his chin to better expose his neck. The young woman gently wraps it with a strange device. She presses a button, and it automatically tightens just enough to feel snug, but not uncomfortable. She then releases it and makes a quick note on the electronic pad in her hand.

 

“Kona,” Ilana calls, making the woman glance up. “I think platinum will suit him best, don’t you think?”

 

Kona inspects him briefly before answering.

 

“I completely agree, Ilana.”

 

She wraps up her tools and stands.

 

“It will be ready for you in time for the party, Counselor.”

 

Csr. Spock returns her smile with one of his own.

 

“Thank you, Kona.”

 

‘“My pleasure.”

 

He brings his attention to Ilana, who watches him intently, not saying a word. He returns her gaze with a raised eyebrow, but waits patiently for her to give voice to her thoughts. He feels an odd mixture of emotions from her- curiosity being the most dominant.

 

“I’d like to ask you a question, Spock.”

 

“Please do,” he says.

 

“Why are those names marked on your skin?”

 

His brow immediately wrinkles. How does she know they are names?

 

“You read Vulcan?”

 

“ _I stariben Vuhlkansu u' muhl_ ,” her pronunciation is immaculate.

 

“How?”

 

“We take our education very seriously on my planet. We value our protection, as well, but we do not let that isolation keep us ignorant,” she says. “Have you seen any children since you’ve arrived?”

 

Odd question, but now that it’s been brought to his attention...no, he hasn’t.

 

“No.”

 

“That is because children are raised separately in an environment specifically designed to best develop their physical, emotional, and mental wellbeing. There they are exposed to a variety of species and cultures within our sector. The curriculum is stringent, but tailored for each individual child based on their needs and interests. And it never comes at the expense of their health. In fact there is even separation between the Arecelle and Kirinian children due to the Arecelles’ unique ability to learn at a highly accelerated rate. They are then brought together again for the _M’Sheyangi_.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The _M’Sheyangi_ ,” Ilana repeats with a giggle. “Our time of bonding. When Arecelles and Kirinians are of age, they are brought together for a large ceremony to match them to their bondmate.”

 

“When you say bondmate-“

 

“We mean it quite literally. I believe there is a ritual on Vulcan that is very similar.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Of course, he thinks bitterly. Bonding certainly makes a slave easier to control. He has intimate knowledge of that. He swallows at the angry bile bubbling in his throat as Ilana continues.

 

“We also strongly believe that learning is a constant process. There is never a point we think we know all that is needed. When we encounter new life forms or phenomena, we do all we can to explore and understand. As such, I set to work to learn Vulcan after we received your first message.”

 

Shock clears away his dark thoughts almost immediately, and he barely stops it from expressing itself fully on his face, but he’s sure she can sense it anyway.

 

“That gave you approximately 6 days and 17 hours,” he marvels.

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Incredible.”

 

Ilana sits up a little straighter as a sign of determination.

 

“We’ve gone completely off topic, Spock, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

 

“Question?”

 

She gestures at him with a nod.

 

“Your markings.”

 

He looks down instinctively, following the thin curls of calligraphy trailing down his left shoulder. Each name he reads brings a face to mind. Some of the memories are pleasant...some are not. The rest seem to burn under his acute awareness- across his left pectoral, down his back, wrapped around his arms and ribs, around his right thigh, and even one on his neck below his left ear. Until now, he’s never really thought about just how many there are.

 

“Reminders of another life.”

 

Ilana watches him intently for a moment. He can feel her thoughts churning in her mind, unspoken words stinging at the tip of her tongue, but she says nothing. He shifts under the intense scrutiny. When Ilana finally breaks the silence, she says:

 

“I’d like to ask you another question, Spock.”

 

“Do not hesitate, Ilana. As you said, to be friends we must first know one another.”

 

She nods her agreement, but takes another pause. She obviously wants- needs to know something, but is unsure how to voice it.

 

“You seem surprised by what I know and do as a doulos,” she finally says bluntly. “That I am educated and afforded certain responsibilities. Is it different where you come from?”

 

Csr. Spock swallows at the sudden lump in his throat. The memories flicker like rushing lights, blurring and churning together in a soup of color and sound.

 

The captain- not his Jim, but the captain of another world...the monster of his nightmares. His hair falls unruly and damp on his forehead as he bares his teeth in a menacing grin. He always did enjoy a visit to his first officer right after a particularly brutal battle. The faint, stale scent of dried blood fills his nose as he draws near. His skin crawls as those hands touch his body, rough and empty, yet he doesn’t pull away. He can’t...not from his bondmate. The lump in his throat swells until he can barely breathe.

 

“I’m going to tear you apart.”

 

“Spock-“

 

The counselor slowly emerges from his thoughts and shakes his head as if to physically clear them away. Beneath the water, his hands are trembling.

 

“Yes,” he chokes out. “It is very different where I come from.”

 

He glances away as moisture blurs his vision. He can still feel her eyes on him. The quiet slosh of water is his only warning before she’s right in front of him. The reflection of her spots in the bath glow a rich emerald green.

 

“Spock.”

 

He finally glances up to meet her eyes.

 

“Do you know how the Arecelles came to be doulos to the Kirinians?

 

He shakes his head.

 

“On my home world, Tutrion...we were conquered by a savage, brutal race known as the Sathore. They took everything from us...our homes, our culture, our hope... There, we were merely their pleasure slaves- mistreated and used until our bodies shriveled and died.”

 

The creeping bite of anger on her last word startles him, but she quickly recovers and reigns in the rage. She takes a breath through her nose before she continues.

 

“The Sathore were incredibly violent. Not too long after we were conquered, they split into factions and waged never-ending war. They seemed to relish it, feed on suffering and death. Eventually the war grew so severe and widespread, they destroyed themselves...”

 

She swallows hard.

 

“Many Arecelles were able to escape during the chaos on a fleet of transport vessels. We had enough supplies to last a few months, but we had nowhere to go. We had nothing. The Sathore had destroyed everything. We were simply waiting for death to take us.”

 

A small smile plays on her lips as a particularly warm memory surfaces.

 

“When we met the Kirinians, we saw that familiar bloodlust as our previous masters, but there was something more...something softer and tender in the right moments. They loathed what that had become, but they couldn’t help themselves. Violence was as much in their nature as it is for any large predator. Their technology was incredibly advanced, even compared to our own, but it was focused solely on the destruction of their enemies.”

 

Ilana’s spots swirl into a deep maroon.

 

“They were on the same path as the Sathore, but...we did not want them destroyed. We had grown to cherish them in ways we thought died within our people long ago. We loved them, and we needed to save them from themselves,” she murmurs.

 

“We discovered our minds to be highly compatible, and that is when we began the bonding. With the darker halves of themselves under control, the Kirinians became gentle and loving; they loved us as strongly as we did them. They gave us security, companionship, but more than anything, they gave us purpose. They gave us a reason to anticipate the nightfall and warmth of their beds and to look forward to the next sunrise. From then on, we gave ourselves to them, wholly and completely.”

 

There’s a soft slosh of water as she brings her hand to his chin and tilts it to her.

 

“You see, Spock, we are no more slaves to the Kirinians than you are to your captain or your commander,” she says.

 

“Then why must you wear that collar?” Csr. Spock asks.

 

Ilana grins and cups his cheek in her palm.

 

“Because I choose to.”

 

The counselor’s eyebrows furrow, and her spots transition to a bright pink.

 

“Submission, Spock, is very different from slavery,” she says softly. “Obeying orders while a slave is survival, but what we have with the Kirinians...it’s a choice. One we’ve made again and again and again.”

 

Csr. Spock stares up at her as the pieces begin to fall into place.

 

“You choose to give yourselves to the Kirinians,” he reasons aloud. “You choose to be submissive.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Because you love them.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So the collars and the titles, all of it, is just-“ the tips of the counselor’s ears heat slightly. “A way to heighten the pleasure of the dynamic.”

 

Ilana’s spots change to a deep crimson, and her eyelashes lower.

 

“Precisely.”

 

She glances down at his lips, and they tingle under her gaze. For a moment, he believes she might kiss him, but instead she moves back to her side of the bath.

 

“Now you understand.”

 

He nods.

 

“Yes, I believe I do...”

 

There’s a long pause, the absence of words stretches between them in spite of the hurried bustle inside the room. It’s quite a bit to process, but it all now makes sense. There is no animosity, no resentment, no fear, no rage, no hatred... nothing but genuine affection and love woven through the atmosphere in a tapestry of minds interconnected in a way surpassing that of his own people. It’s beautiful really, now that he understands. But there’s one thing he’s still unsure of. He finally breaks the silence.

 

“Not that I am unappreciative of your help, Ilana, but why are you so determined to form this alliance with the Federation?”

 

Ilana pulls in a deep breath through her nose as she tries to formulate her response. He waits patiently, curious about the emotions churning in her mind.

 

“Klingons live for war, Spock,” she states bluntly. “They have anger and violence in their veins- they are the antithesis of who we are and what we believe. The Arecelles may have tamed the bloodlust within the Kirinians, but we cannot cure it. It will always be a part of them, and as such, will always be their vulnerability. The Klingons can be rather...persuasive in a way that may speak to that dormant hunger.”

 

She glances away briefly, forlorn.

 

“I can advise and reason with the Doyen, but that is all I can do. Ultimately, the decision belongs to him and the council,” she almost whispers. “I’ll admit that I am afraid- terrified of the possibility. I could not bear to see our world unravel after what we’ve worked through to be where we are now.”

 

When her eyes turn to him, burning into him, her spots shimmer into a vibrant orange.

 

“That is why I need you, Spock. As the doulos of your captain and commander, you are the only one who can reach the Kirinians in a way that just as primal, if not more so, than their bloodlust,” she says earnestly. “Because of this...you have all the power this night.”

 

She pauses, then asks:

 

“Will you help me protect my home, Spock?”

 

“Yes, I will,” he answers without hesitation.

 

His words bring a bright smile to her face and a yellow hue to her spots.

 

“Then let’s get you dressed. The festivities will begin soon.”


End file.
